Armored Hearts - By Melissa Turner Lee Page 0,7
the robberies are happening?”
He shrugged and buttoned his coat. “You were so worried about them, and it got me thinking. Those folks won’t get much attention from the authorities. They’re too low in rank for anyone to really care. Unless Grandfather pays a call to the authorities on their behalf…but we both know he never will.”
Tabitha rushed in front of him. “But the robbers could be armed. You could get hurt.”
Gareth flew to the balcony doors. “I’ll be fine.”
“You can’t out fly a bullet.”
He shrugged. “It’s dark.”
Her voice rose, and she no longer spoke in a whisper. “How would you come home and explain a bullet wound to Lord Pensees? Or what if someone saw you and told?”
Gareth stopped and bit his lip. She was right; he shouldn’t risk it.
Tabitha’s face lit up. “I have an idea.”
She ran to the door, stepping over the cat. The orange tabby darted under his bed. She stepped out into the hall and peeked back in with a mischievous smile. “All’s clear. Follow me.”
Gareth threw up his hands but relented. When they reached the door to the attic, he had to ask, “Where are we going?”
“I told you. I have an idea.”
They reached the top of the attic stairs, Gareth reining in his flying pace to wait for Tabitha. She rushed over to a corner and pulled a sheet off of a suit of armor. “You could wear this.”
Gareth parked himself on top of an old wardrobe. He laughed. “I’m not wearing that.”
“Why not? You’d be bullet proof. No one would recognize you. And if anyone sees you, no one’s going to believe a story about a flying knight.”
Gareth shook his head, but a smile formed on his lips. She might have something. She usually did. Tabitha was the smartest person Gareth knew, even if she were a girl. All the ladies he’d ever met bored him within minutes of a conversation’s beginning. Perhaps it was being trapped in the chair and on the country estate that made Gareth long for conversation that went beyond the current fashion and silly giggles. Another reason to swear off the idea of matrimony.
But Tabitha would need to marry well. Grandfather discouraged her in flaunting her intelligence. Gareth had to agree. Most gentlemen were stupid and only interested in cards and all things trivial. No mindless gentleman would want a wife who was so obviously his intellectual superior. Her origins and sharp mind were two strikes against her. But she was pretty and sweet natured. Some man would be able to see pass the other issues.
Gareth flew down from where he’d perched and picked up the sword that went with the suit. The tarnished blade felt heavy and awkward. Mr. Strong had been teaching him fencing as best he could with Gareth in a chair. He’d said it was part of a proper and well rounded education. Gareth hadn’t paid much attention, thinking swordplay a foolish endeavor for a cripple. Perhaps just holding the sword would be enough to frighten criminals away. He surveyed the suit again and turned to Tabitha.
“Help me put it on over my clothes.”
***
Gareth made his way to the east side of the village, slower than usual due to the extra weight. The armor’s visor kept falling over his eyes, making visibility difficult. Sweat beaded on his forehead in the stifling lack of airflow.
At his rate of flight, it still didn’t take long to reach the other side of town. He flew over one farm and saw nothing out of order. He did the same over at the Miller place. He’d been there with Sarah to get apples as a child. Nothing.
Just as he was about to give up, three young men came out of a shed, carrying tools. Gareth had never confronted anyone before, not really. He’d been surly to the help and to his grandfather all his life, but that was different.
He landed in the midst of them. They were around his age but he didn’t recognize any of them from church or the dinner parties he attended at Greenview.
“Put them back.” Gareth deepened his voice to sound older and pointed with the sword.
The boys froze; their jaws dropped and eyes widened.
“I said, Put. Them. Back.” His tone was controlled but with true power.
The tallest, a thin boy, backed away, tripping over a red-haired boy who had frozen in place. The tall one’s tweed cap flew from his head, and he let out a sharp cry as he fell on his backside.